


Locum Tenens

by Solovei



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: But not in the way you think! ;), Canada, Future Fic, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Yuri Plisetsky, Injuries not described in detail don't worry, M/M, Non-Binary Yuri Plisetsky, Protective Otabek Altin, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solovei/pseuds/Solovei
Summary: The irony didn’t escape the various nurses and hospital staff they had interacted with since they arrived, who wasted no time laughing at the idea of a competitive figure skater wiping out on a patch of ice in a city that almost never gets cold enough to freeze.Yuri did not waste any time telling them to shut up every time this happened___In which Yuri is pleasantly surprised by their boyfriend, and also one other thing happens.
Relationships: Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	Locum Tenens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crazyjane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyjane/gifts).



> This was inspired by a recent experience that was retold to me by a friend... I wrote it to brighten their day and hopefully other people who found themselves in the same situation can also take comfort in it! :) the Grand Prix Final did actually take place Vancouver in 2018 so I decided to set it there (Because I sort of know how Canadian health care works) but the actual year is ambiguous. Anyway, Yuri is 20, Otabek is 22.

Sometimes Yuri wonders if they had pissed off a witch in some past life. Too many things about this are uncanny and improbable for it to be anything besides interference from the beyond. Maybe Georgi wasn’t messing around and actually did have magical powers, which means all of those times Yuri had stolen his yogurt at practice finally added to something.

Because for Yuri Plisetsky, holder of multiple medals from figure skating competitions all over the world, to be now sitting in the emergency room of Vancouver General Hospital because they slipped on a patch of suspiciously icy Canadian pavement, is fucking _ironic_. 

This irony didn’t escape the various nurses and hospital staff they had interacted with since they arrived, who wasted no time laughing at the idea of a competitive figure skater wiping out on a patch of ice in a city that almost never gets cold enough to freeze. Yuri did not waste any time telling them to shut up every time this came up. 

They imagine what people would say. Victor would probably be beside himself with concern, and do his best Yakov impression in lecturing them about protecting their body. Mila would just snort and giggle and say, “Who’s the old hag now?”. Katsudon would probably smile awkwardly and make some stupid comment about how, if you think about it, falling on skates is very different from falling on the ground. 

Oh right. They still haven’t told Yakov. It’s probably nothing, and worrying him before they get checked out by an actual doctor is not a good idea. Not, you know… The day before the GPF opening ceremony.

\---

The hospital’s PA system intermittently calls this or that doctor to this or that area. Hoping to at least catch a glimpse of some kind of cool and gross injury, Yuri keeps turning around every time this happens, but it appears they ended up in the part of triage where people aren’t currently bleeding to death, so they are constantly disappointed to find the scenery unchanged. Also, whenever they do this there’s a sharp twinge of pain that shoots up their arm, which… might be a problem.

They inhale deeply in effort to calm down somewhat and catch a faint hint of that very particular smell that permeates all hospitals, cobwebs from the past, musty fabrics and disinfectant. Unbidden, Yuri remembers their grandmother, her sudden and difficult illness, how Grandpa would drive them between the rink and the hospital. Even towards the end, when she wasn’t making a lot of sense anymore, she’d still ask Yuri to bring in tapes of their competitions.

They shake their head as if to clear the memories away and let their eyes slide over the waiting room until they can grasp something less depressing to focus on - a small flat-screen television mounted on the wall, currently turned to a local news station. Excellent. Yuri fixes their gaze on the screen, looking but not seeing, and starts making an itemized list of all the physical sensations they’re feeling. One, they are tired from a day of practice. Two, they are still slightly jetlagged. Three, their wrist is throbbing annoyingly. Two of those three things are expected and normal, so really, only one thing is wrong right now. Should they be more concerned? After all, a single injury could end a figure skating career in the blink of an eye. Why isn’t Yuri pacing up and down the corridor? 

“This is a very large hospital… I managed to find the coffee shop though.” The dulcet tones of Otabek’s voice reach Yuri’s ears from the low drone of Canadian politics. His cheeks and nose are colored with the blush of winter, hands in fingerless gloves holding aloft a takeout coffee cup. “I got you decaf, just in case…”

Oh. That’s why. Because Otabek is with them and, well. It’s pretty hard for things to suck when Beka is around. 

They force themself to smile as they take the cup, feeling slightly more human as the warmth of the beverage seeps into their hands. At least, in some bizarre way, they would get extra time with Otabek without having to dodge the media, their fans, and their coaches.

Otabek sits down beside Yuri in one of the weird-smelling waiting room chairs and carefully rolls up the sleeve of Yuri’s sweatshirt to look at their wrist. “It still looks swollen. How do you feel?”

“Stupid, mostly. It hurts if I move it?” Yuri mumbles around the lid of the cup. They try a sip of the coffee. It’s not terrible. “Why are we even here, Beks? I really don’t want to wake up to ‘ _Yuri Plisetsky Health Scare at Grand Prix Final’_ plastered all over the internet. I’d rather wake up to, you know…” Here they lean forward conspiratorially, lowering their voice so that only Otabek can hear. “ ‘ _Morning Yura, lets have awesome good luck sex so we can both medal’_ ” 

Otabek’s frost-colored cheeks turn a deeper shade of red, and he turns away for a moment, clearing his throat as though nothing had happened.

“We are here… Because when we told Yakov we were dating I promised him that I’d take care of you, and also because you are an athlete and cannot afford to take risks with injuries.”

 _Dammit_ , Yuri thinks. _Stupid sexy Otabek. Why did he always have to be right?_

"If I have to miss the short program I'm blaming this on JJ," they say in a huff, taking a swig from the takeout cup.

\---

They are almost all the way through their disappointingly decaf coffee by the time someone calls out an approximation of their name from the little reception window. The throbbing seems more present now, and Yuri is beginning to worry, in a vague way, that perhaps this is less of an overreaction than it seems. 

The nurse asks most of the standard information they had already given to the intake person when they arrived. For what feels like the third time, someone asks Yuri if they hit their head when they fell. They’re not even sure anymore if they did. Otabek lays out the sequence of events for the nurse, how they were going for dinner after the ceremony rehearsal, how it was dark. Yuri is very thankful, because they just leaned on the counter in a slightly wrong way and the vague throbbing suddenly jolted up in intensity so they are too busy wincing to do something like recalling the past two hours.

Yuri stands there half-leaning on Otabek instead and focusing on how different his voice sounds when he’s speaking English rather than the Russian they usually share between them. 

“Are you friend or family?” The nurse asks Otabek after he finishes his account of the events. 

“Boyfriend.” Otabek offers as a third option. 

“That’s fine. I need to take your information down as the person who brought him in,” the nurse says, typing away on her computer. “So we have an emergency contact.” 

“Them.” Otabek says, and Yuri feels like someone dumped cold water on their face. They’ve corrected people’s pronouns before, more times than they care to remember, really, since they started telling people, but this was the first time that Otabek had done it for them. Yuri turns away and smiles into their sleeve. 

“Pardon?” 

“My partner uses they/them pronouns,” Otabek explains, patiently like he is talking to a young child. “They’re nonbinary.” 

The nurse pauses for a second, looks at the two of them, then asks Otabek for his name and date of birth. 

\----

Not long after, a short bubbly girl comes to rescue them from Waiting Room Hell. She's about Mila’s age, with hot pink scrubs and a nametag that reads “Kimberly”. Evidently she is here to take Yuri to do some tests and take an x-ray. Yuri gets up out of their chair, but pauses when they see Otabek following. “Wait, you have your short program tomorrow. Who knows how long this will take. You should go back to the hotel.” 

Otabek shakes his head, stepping up to Yuri’s side without another word. Normally this would be a shockingly romantic gesture but Yuri isn’t paying attention and tries to reach for Otabek’s hand with the one they injured, which sends another jolt of pain up their arm and absolutely breaks the ambiance in the process. 

“Ah- _fuuuck…”_ They hiss, clutching their wrist to their chest. 

“Oh. Can you walk?” Kimberly asks. Yuri nods. 

“Alright, come on.” Otabek mutters, slipping an arm around Yuri to steady them. The new nurse leads them to a larger, more spacious area, split into smaller sections by plastic blue curtains. There’s a bed here, and a chair, and a cabinet holding various medical equipment. 

“Here, Yura, do you want to sit?” Otabek coos at him in Russian, nodding towards the bed. It does look slightly more comfortable than the chairs in the waiting room, but it’s slightly elevated and has various cords and attachments that seem like way too much work to navigate right now. 

“I’m not an invalid, just…. I’m fine here.” They mumble into the collar of Otabek’s jacket.

Yuri hasn’t been this angry at their body since Yakov said they were too young to do quads in competitions. It feels like the slightest movement sends ricochets of pain bouncing through their nerves, and there’s no rhyme or reason to what sets it off. 

Kimberly leans forward and waves a little to get his attention. “Hey… so, Mr… Altin? You can stay here with him if you’d like, but I do need to do those tests, okay? Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him.” 

Yuri almost takes an angry step forward - didn’t Otabek just explain this to that other person - but he stops them before they can make a scene and nods. “ _Them_.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, the other nurse didn’t... um.”

“Please try to get it right next time. Yura, come on. Give me your jacket.” 

Right. Yuri sighs and steals a quick kiss from Otabek before letting go of his solid, stable form and handing over the jacket they’d had draped over their shoulders. “When you say tests, what do you mean?” They ask, trying to control the edge in their voice.

“Oh, you know. Blood pressure, orientation, range of motion. It won’t hurt, I promise,” Kimberly says, seemingly unfazed by the outburst. They wonder if maybe she’s seen a lot worse working at the ER.

\---

When they return from the X-ray room, Otabek is still waiting where Yuri left him, solemnly guarding their jacket. It feels like every single muscle in their body has exhausted its capacity to be a muscle, but… That’s a damn comforting sight.

“I think…. That bed is looking pretty nice right now, Beka...” They mutter, but stubbornly refuse help in laying down. Kimberly informs them that the doctor will be along soon to talk to them, and to press the button if ‘either of them’ needs anything. Well, at least she’s trying. 

Otabek keeps them occupied while they wait, mostly by reading choice selections from Yuri’s twitter feed. They manage a laugh or two, especially when Otabek is describing the amazingly apt reaction gifs Phichit tends to use. Still, their mind is elsewhere, partly because of the amount of pain they’re in, but also - The whole… pronoun thing. 

It had seemed like such an easy thing to tell Otabek, two years ago. As easy as breathing, as easy as skating. _So Beks, I’ve been doing some thinking and I think I’m nonbinary? Oh okay cool. Where do you want to go for dinner?_ They’d told others, here and there… Mila, Katsudon. They wanted at least their friends to know, because it was too big of a thing to entrust to the media. It was still annoying to see articles use ‘he’, but if nothing else, it was an excuse to spend less time reading infuriating stuff on the internet. 

But, now, here. To have Otabek Altin, Hero of Kazakhstan, defend them like that. Like it was _real_ and legitimate and not just some phase that Yuri was going through. 

Huh.

The curtain parts, rings noisily sliding on metal and returning Yuri to reality. The doctor that sees them is in her forties, with dark hair clipped behind her head in a hurried updo. She introduces herself as Dr. Minoru. 

“So. Figure skaters, huh?” She says, flipping through a thin folder. Yuri is too exhausted to nod, so Otabek does it for them.

“Bit ironic, then? Getting injured off the rink like that?” Dr Minoru quips. 

“YES, it’s ironic, can you ….” Yuri starts, anger slicing through the pain and tiredness, only to stop once they notice Otabek giving them that _look._ Breathe. “ _Please_ just…. Tell me what the hell is wrong already? We’ve been here for hours.” 

Dr. Minoru nods. “Yuri, was it? Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Were all Canadians this irritating? “I really do not care, lady.” 

“Well, the wrist is definitely broken. Or, rather…” Here she pulls out the X-ray and inserts it into the lightbox where they can see it. She circles an area with a red sharpie that she produced from some pocket of her labcoat. “You broke one of your carpal bones, which is all of these small bones here that connect your hand to your arm. That’s the bad news. The good news is, the break isn’t open - that means it didn’t go through the skin - and the fragments seem to line up the way they should.”

“... _fuck,”_ Yuri breathes. “I’m in the middle of a competition, I can still skate, right? It’s just my wrist.”

“I’m afraid I can’t recommend that.” Seeing the look of horror on Yuri’s face, Dr. Minoru continues, “At least not right away! I’m sure you’re a capable skater, but if you re-injure the wrist, say, by falling again, the break could be much worse.” She flips through her folder again, as Otabek takes this moment to slide a comforting arm around Yuri’s shoulders. _Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck,_ the word bounces around their brain like an old-school screensaver.

“You’ll need to be in a cast for at least a couple of weeks - it says here you’ll be flying back on Monday? 

When Yuri doesn’t answer, Otabek steps in. “Y-yeah, there’s an exhibition skate on Sunday and usually a closing banquet that we’re required to attend.”

The doctor nods. “Right, that should be plenty of time for the swelling to go down...Sometimes the plaster casts can cause blood pressure problems on long-haul flights, but a young active person like Yuri should be fine. Honestly, I might just go with fiberglass in this case, since…” It’s unclear at this point if she’s talking to herself or to Otabek, until she gives him a wink. “But, you know… they look like they enjoy getting in trouble, so keep an eye on them, alright?”

Yuri’s ears perk up. Did she just… ?

“Now, Yuri, there’s more I will need to go over with you, but first I need to ask you a very important question… What color do you want for your cast?” 

“Can… can you do it black and orange? Like a tiger?” 

\---

Yuri wakes up in a bed and it takes them a few moments to realize they are back at the hotel. There’s no way these are hospital sheets. The second thing they become aware of is Otabek. He is perched somewhat awkwardly on the side of their bed, sitting up against the headboard with his arms folded across his chest, outstretched legs crossed one over the other. He's still wearing the same clothes he left practice in. In the blue twilight pouring from the window, he looks ethereal in his gray knitted sweater, like a guardian spirit from another time. 

They wonder what the time is, but moving seems like too much effort and they have no idea where their phone went. It could be early morning or early evening. What day is it? Did Otabek make it to his events on time? It’s entirely possible that Yuri has slept through the entire GPF competition, closing banquet and all, because they were just that exhausted. 

With the hand that isn’t in a cast they inch their fingers forward until they can grasp the hem of the sweater Otabek is wearing. It’s a bit scratchy against their skin, but in a way that evokes the simple comforts of home. They wonder if Otabek's grandmother made it. Does he have a grandmother? Does she ask to watch his tapes too? Yuri closes their eyes, not realizing that they drift off to sleep until they wake up again, this time to the feeling of Otabek brushing a lock of hair out of their face. 

“Beka… what… Wh…” 

Because Otabek is certifiably the Best Boyfriend, he is already answering the question that Yuri didn’t get through asking, “Okay, in order of importance: It is 4:30 am on Thursday. December 6. We got back from the hospital around midnight, I gave you some ibuprofen, and called Yakov to explain the situation. He said he’ll deal with the ISU and that you must call him as soon as you wake up.” 

4:30… Yuri tries to remember the schedule. The opening ceremony wasn’t until the evening. Which means… “Come back to bed with me, then. Just… a couple of hours. You can’t be the Hero of Kazakhstan looking like a zombie,” they say coyly, tugging on the bit of sweater they’re still holding. 

Otabek smiles tiredly, climbing carefully over Yuri to wrap his arms around them from behind. “A couple of hours, then.”

"You know, this means JJ might actually get _another_ medal he doesn't deserve," Otabek says softly after it becomes evident that neither of them can sleep yet. 

Yuri lets out a barely-audible laugh. "That’s… Honestly my only regret about all this." 

Otabek is silent for a few moments, and Yuri can almost feel his brow furrowing, even if they can’t see it. “I’m…. really glad you’re okay, though. I was worried there for a second.”

“Only a second? Harsh, Beks.” 

“A thousand seconds.”

“Okay that’s... like half an hour?”

Yuri feels Otabek press his forehead against the back of their head, burying his face in their hair. “I… I know you’re upset. About not getting to skate. But… there’ll be other competitions. There’s only one of you.”

They take Otabek’s hand in their uninjured one and bring it to their lips, grasping it tightly. “Hey. Otabek. Don’t you dare lose just because of this. I am personally going to drag myself and my fucked-up hand to that rink and scream my fucking head off to make sure you win. Okay?”

“Okay. Now get some sleep.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: "locum tenens" is latin, it means ‘one holding a place’. But, it's also a term used often in to refer to physicians providing relief staffing to short-handed hospitals or clinics.


End file.
